SUNLIGHT filtered through the dense trees, mottling the road with warm light. Squirrels scurried in the underbrush as the sun shed its last rays before settling in the West.

Miladda eased her mount to a stop at a small tributary of the Bonekeeper near the mouth of Thistle Pass. She pushed down the thick hood of her wool cloak. A stiff chilly breeze cutting through the Pass and shady patches of darkness cooled her skin, washing away the weariness from a full day in the sun.

The horse dipped its head and took a long drink of the cool, fresh water. Miladda slid from the saddle with a delicate grace that belied the savagery and power of which all Blood Hunters were capable.

It would be night soon. Miladda required little rest, but the horse needed breaks at regular intervals. It was annoying, but necessary.

She wandered a short distance from the road and found a suitable clearing to set up camp. She pushed her mind out to the horse and it trotted to her, sputtering and shaking its head.

She stroked the animal’s neck and removed her tent from the pack.

“Do not stray,” Miladda said. The horse looked at her and she knew it understood. She found horses much more agreeable than most humans. They had simple lives and simple needs, as did humans. But humans somehow always managed to complicate the simplest of situations.

They either fought or held committees. In lieu of those, they would mull about things they could fight about or hold a committee over. Strangely, one invariably lead to the other.

The worst attributes in Blood Hunters were a reflection of their human owners. As were some of the best. The indenturing bands purged personality from the slave to which it was attached. It created a more docile and compliant pet.

Miladda set up her modest canvas tent. She spread another on the ground inside and placed a bedroll on top of it and sat, cross-legged.

She placed her hands atop her knees and closed her eyes.

Living energy flowed all around her. The trees, forest animals, her horse, mosses and insects, everything contributed to the aura of life.

She opened herself to it. The energy passed through her, warmed her. Her skin flushed.

Tiny portions of each life remained in her body, sustaining her. Feeding her.

She took only what she needed, and not enough to harm the creatures and flora supplying it.

It was an unfortunate necessity.

Though she had freedom now, she would never be free of this. It was a daily reminder of how different she was from the humans that she supposedly now shared equality. Perhaps she was too different, never to be accepted, and never to share the one life that mattered most to her.

Weiss.

It would be easy. Giving in to her nature. If the whim so took her, she could absorb all of the life passing through her and kill everything twenty feet out. The simple creatures and plants in the forest would offer little resistance.

Thinking creatures were much more difficult, though it could be done. Decades of owners had directed her to that task on several occasions during her life of service. She enjoyed it each time, because her owners had. At least she hoped that was the reason.

Weiss was different. He was often viewed as brutal, but she knew him differently. He did everything based on the ideals his brother left behind, and eventually abandoned.

He and Alessandro were long at war before he saved her that hot morning. But in all the years she had been with him since, Weiss never spoke ill of his brother. Not once.

She often wondered how humans could change so significantly, seemingly into a different person. She supposed that the energy beneath Warden’s hold affected Alessandro. It definitely had an effect on her. Something primal awakened in her as she basked in the immense power. The longing for it still pounded in her chest.

She opened her eyes and calmed her breathing.

How will this power affect Weiss?

She wanted to believe that he would persevere, resisting the temptation it created. Still she had doubts. He was human after all.

Part of her wanted to find him and flee to the other side of the world with him. Another part knew that it would do no good. The ancient power had to be contained or Armain would cease to be and there would be no other side to which to flee.

The thought of Weiss dying caused her chest to tighten.

There was no question that finding him was the right thing to do. She would stay by his side and face fate with him, to whatever end that held.

The last scraps of daylight sank below the horizon, under lighting the thick rain-laden clouds to the West with orange. It was beautiful. Sunset was the only time Miladda enjoyed the sunlight.

If a few short hours it would be day, and back to the discomfort that came with it. Perhaps the horse would recover, and she could continue riding after midnight, resting again in the morning. In her rush to leave Uriel, her reluctance to stop—and ability to lend strength to her horse—kept her on the road through the previous night and following day.  Were it not for the limitations of her mount, she might still be riding.

Knowing that Weiss passed this way and that she was on the right path eased her mind. She hoped she could find him in time.

After midnight, Miladda checked on the horse. She lay her hand on its neck and touched it with her will, easing the animal’s fatigue.

Satisfied the beast wasn’t in danger of collapse, she broke camp and recovered her gear.

She pulled herself into the saddle and steered West. The forest canopy blocked any useful light from the two glowing moons. Miladda’s eyes were adapted to make the most of even the dimmest light, but she kept the pace slow for the benefit of the animal.

Thistle Pass snaked West through the tight forest undergrowth for another mile or so before opening into a clearing.

The dead remains of a shallow fire pit filled with quiet coals sat in the middle of it. A camp was made here, perhaps only a few days ago.

Miladda drove her awareness into the surrounding wilderness, covering the campsite and short distance beyond. Weiss had been here. The scent of him, the unique feel of his essence, was present all around her.

In the trees a few hundred feet away, she paused her search. Two bodies lay among the brambles and rocks on a small side path. She couldn’t discern if Weiss was one of them, but the echo of his presence was everywhere.

She snapped in her will and flashed through the trees toward the dead men.

Her heart pounded as she panned the area for signs. The stench of decaying flesh reeked around the trail. She found the bodies behind a thick, moss-covered log a few feet off the beaten path. They lay side-by-side, purposely placed there. Her eyes darted between the two corpses. That faint sense of unease faded from her. Weiss was not here. Though she was certain that he had killed one or both of the decomposing men.

She rummaged through their clothing and discovered that both had been relieved of their possessions.

Relieved, she headed back to the clearing. Her horse stood at the far edge, grazing on soft ferns. It lifted its head and turned to regard her. A faint quizzical look came to his incisive face, before turned back to munch the crunchy ferns.

Miladda smiled. The intelligence of these animals never failed to impress her. She understood the favor Weiss held for his horse. And, like him, she had failed to name hers. They would be companions for some time to come, perhaps it should have a name.

“Diamascus,” she said. The horse’s head snapped up and it trotted to her. The name felt right to her and, it would seem, the horse as well.

She patted Diamascus on the shoulder and he nuzzled her side. As she pulled herself into the saddle, she closed her eyes and focused her thoughts and got her bearings oriented to Weiss’ path.

With renewed determination she urged her mount down the trail, Westward toward the ocean.

Next Chapter: Chapter 3